Bits and Pieces
by ForeverSirius77
Summary: Everything is made up of many different 'Bits and Pieces'. -A collection of different drabbles written over the years, to be posted only on this site.-
1. As Ready as They Can Be

_Disclaimer__: Anything__ you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

_Author's Note__: All right, this entire story is basically just a collection of random drabbles / very short one-shots that I've written over the years. This story I plan on just being posted here on FF.N, as most of these parts are too short for the other sites that I post on, as they have a minimum word count, and these drabbles don't always make that cut. _

_Some of these will have a pairing, like this first one does, while others will just be very general and romance-less. Some are several years old, while others are far more recent. Some are _very _short, while others are lengthier. However, they are what they are, and I hope you enjoy them. _

_You can see information about the drabble at the beginning, such as the date that it was written (or a guess), word count, summaries, etc. And now, without further ado, I present for your enjoyment, _Bits and Pieces.

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 1 February 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Valentine's Day

**Title:** As Ready as They Can Be

**Summary:** There's always a building up of courage for brides and grooms.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 541

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**As Ready as They Can Be**

* * *

"I can do this. … I _really_ can do this. …" He looked back at his reflection in the mirror, and the image gazing at him from the glass clearly displayed the young man's feelings. A freckled face stared back at him, and he watched as his face turned visibly paler (with a slight tint of green appearing), his stomach continuing its twisting into massive knots.

"I can do this. …" he muttered, and just as he finally managed to turn away from the mirror, a voice spoke out and echoed around the room.

"Not looking and sweating like that, you can't, dear."

Ron Weasley jerked his head around to glare angrily at the glass. "Shut up," he mumbled, throwing a discarded sock at the hanging mirror. The reflective glass did not respond and, self-consciously wiping the palms of his hands on his dress robes, Ron slowly exhaled his trapped breath and left the room.

* * *

"This is mad … _completely_ mad … Who am I trying to fool? I can't do this. I can't do any of —"

"Hermione," Ginny said, interrupting her friend's speech, grabbing the older witch by the shoulders and turning her around so that the two girls were face to face. "Calm down," said the youngest Weasley. "You _can_ do this. This is _not_ mad. And you are _completely_ ready for all of this."

The Muggle-born witch just stared back at her friend, who had become as close as a sister over the years. They had spent so much time together, especially as the war had escalated to its conclusion and now, as things had begun to calm down, their relationship was even closer. Hermione trusted Ginny, just as Ginny had had to trust Hermione so often during the war.

"You really think I can do this?" whispered Hermione, her face showing a mixture of fear, anxiety, and excitement.

Ginny smiled at the other girl's nervousness. "Of course you can," she said. "Now come on, Harry's probably already waiting with him."

* * *

"You two look beautiful," said Harry Potter as he watched Ginny and Hermione come down the staircase towards the Entrance Hall.

"You don't look half bad yourself, Harry," whispered Ginny as she approached the young man at the foot of the stairs and allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Is he ready?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "He's as ready as he's ever going to be," he said and, obviously knowing that he wouldn't get a response from Hermione, whispered into Ginny's ear, "Is she ready?"

"As ready as she can be," responded Ginny.

Harry nodded, and he and Ginny entered into the hall beyond, leaving Hermione standing on the stairs and awaiting her father.

* * *

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, revealing the massive crowd of witches, wizards, and Muggles gathered within. All heads turned back towards the doorway, watching the people who had begun to enter. Hermione Granger, her long, brown hair pulled back with a few strands falling down the back of her sparkling white gown and her arm lovingly hooked in that of her father's, walked up towards the front … and towards Ronald Weasley, whose large grin easily reached his eyes.

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_Author's __Note__: Thanks for reading, and please, let me know your thoughts!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	2. An Official Letter

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** February 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Excuses/Apologies Challenge

**Title:** An Official Letter

**Summary:** The sincerity of political apologies is _astounding. _

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 147

**Note: **Shows what a last-minute, written-in-five-minutes submission will become

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**An Official Letter**

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_To Mr. Stan Shunpike:_

In regards to your recent imprisonment in Azkaban Prison, please accept the Ministry's sincerest apologies. An unfortunate mistake was made in regards to your arrest, and I can assure you that the Ministry, immediately upon hearing of the grievous error, has worked tirelessly for many days to correct the unfortunate incident.

As the Minister for Magic, I personally deeply regret the error. It seemed some evidence and files had been mistranslated by Ministry employees, and investigators of the current Death Eater activity were mistakenly led to you. The issues with mistranslations and miscommunications have since been corrected, and the Ministry can assure you, Mr. Shunpike, that an error such as grand and horrendous as this should never have happened, and it never will again.

Again, I send the Ministry's deepest apologies to you over the horrible mistake.

Sincerely,

_Rufus Scrimgeour_

_Minister for Magic_

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_Author's__ Note__: Well, thanks for reading, and thank you _SWChica2005 _for reviewing. I'd appreciate anyone's thoughts on this part as well._

_--ForeverSirius77_


	3. Revenge

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 26 July 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Minor Canon Character: A Portrait, A Challenge

**Title:** Revenge

**Summary:** He had always been a vengeful child.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 596

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**Revenge**

* * *

He walked slowly, stealthily, through the forest surrounding the single house. His footsteps made almost no sound at all as he crouched under low-hanging tree branches, continuing on his trek through the wilderness.

Fenrir shoved some loose strands of hair from his face as he walked. Sweat had already begun to form along his brow as he felt the pull of the moon in the night sky. It was almost time. He knew that the moon would be revealed soon, in all its bright and full glory, and he had to be ready when it did.

Dark clouds shifted in the sky as Fenrir approached the borders of the forest, his gaze locked intensely on the house in front of him. He heard voices and other sounds coming from the inside of the house, and his muscles tensed. Fenrir's heart raced in anger, and his blood boiled and burned with a suppressed fury.

A low growl escaped his lips as he watched the house. The man inside had done wrong, Fenrir knew. He had done wrong and now, he would have to answer for it. The anger intensified in Fenrir as he felt the moon's pull become even stronger; the burning anger fuelled his desire for revenge.

He had always been a vengeful person, ever since he was a child. His mother used to scold him for his attitude in the beginning, saying it was wrong. _"Forgive him, Fenrir," _she would say. _"Accept her apology."_

But he would never listen to his mother. No, the wolf inside of him always yearned for blood, for revenge. Fenrir had always chosen to get even with his enemies, and his mother had finally just stopped trying to teach her son differently.

And tonight, he wanted to get even again; he wanted revenge on the man in the house.

Fenrir's joints stiffened and, looking up, he saw the dark cloud shift aside in the night sky, revealing the full moon's glowing, bright orb of light. His bones and muscles altered their sizes, some stretching and others shortening, and his face stretched out to form the long snout of the wolf.

He had long ago gotten used to the feeling of the wolf and the different instincts. The strength and power he felt as the wolf flooded through his veins and he revelled in it. Fenrir had also discovered, long ago, that it was better not to fight the wolf's natural instincts. Its taste for blood and flesh fuelled all of the negative human emotions of anger and vengeance. The wolf had taken from him years ago; he could no longer have a life like the one his cousins led.

But the wolf had also given Fenrir something. The wolf gave him power, power and the ability to be respected. Some might replace the word _respected_ with that of _feared, _but to Fenrir, it did not really matter; both of the words were near enough in meaning.

_Yes, _he thought. _Fear. Respect. Anger. Blood. _Fenrir's ears perked up as he heard voices coming from the house, and the sound of the wooden door creaking open. His yellow gaze locked on the small figure that was slowly and stealthily exiting the house. _Flesh, _he thought as the little boy came further away from the house's front door and closer to the forest's edge.

And, his mouth curling into a snarl, a low growl escaping his lips, Fenrir Greyback leapt from the shadows of the forest and towards the young, brown-haired boy, a final thought on his mind as the wolf attacked.

_Revenge._

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_Author's __Note__: Never written Fenrir at any other time save for this drabble. And since the second one was so short, I figured I'd post this one at the same time. Thanks for reading, and please, let me know what you think._

_--ForeverSirius77_


	4. Friends, Brothers

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 28 July 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Weekly Drabble – Epitaphs and Eulogies (NOTE: Received Third Place.)

**Title:** Friends, Brothers

**Summary:** They were always more than friends … They were brothers.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 335

**Note: **I disclaim the ending poem; it came from Robin4's story, _Promises Unbroken. _(And I strongly urge everyone to go and read her fics; they're without a doubt the best!)

* * *

**Friends, Brothers**

* * *

No one noticed the thin and tired man as he walked down the dirt path. If people had been watching, they would have seen his limping gait and hunched shoulders, his drawn face and shuffling walk. But they did not, because no one was watching.

The man finally made it to his destination at the path's end and, reaching into his pocket, withdrew a wand.

"Hello, James, Lily," he muttered, his eyes becoming slightly misty as he looked at the two graves in front of him. Some tears sought to fall from the man's eyes, but he blinked them away.

As dark clouds shifted across the night sky, the man waved his wand, muttering a few incantations as he did so. Once the bright moon was revealed, its light shone down on a newly created headstone that had just joined the previous two.

Putting away his wand, the man sat next to the new headstone. He placed a hand on the grave to his right, his fingers tracing the name _James Potter_, and his other hand to the new grave, tracing over _Sirius Black_ with his trembling fingers.

"We were friends," the man sighed. "Hell, we were more than that … we were brothers. Until one left, taking everything with him. But we remained brothers, James." And as the man stood, he turned back once more.

"Thank you for being my friend, brother."

The man walked away, leaving behind the trio of graves, and Remus Lupin never looked back. If he had, he would have seen the moon's light shine on the newest grave, the words upon the marble stone becoming visible.

_True friendships never really die  
And family isn't defined by blood  
It's made strong by bonds that won't break  
Tempered and tested by trials and pain  
What we are is brothers, and as such we remain  
Loyal to one another until the end  
And no matter what happens between this moment and then  
I shall be always thankful to have had such friends._

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: Well, there you have it, and thank you so much for reading. (I didn't alter this drabble at all from its original version, I have to admit, as I didn't want to change that which managed to place in the challenge.) Another "Thanks" goes to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing the previous bits. And please, everyone, let me know what you think about this one! It remains one of my favourites of all these drabbles. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	5. In the End

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 28 July 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Weekly Drabble – Epitaphs and Eulogies

**Title:** In the End

**Summary:** He never appeared as something special … except in the end.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 261

* * *

**In the End**

* * *

The sun shone down on the large gathering of followers who had come together to bid farewell to a hero. The weather was bright and cheerful, much unlike what many would consider a death would be like.

But perhaps, for this one individual, the sun was appropriate.

"We have gathered today to bid good-bye to a wizard who helped so many," said a short, thin man, his grey hair blowing in the slight breeze. "He fought for what he believed was right, and although he was never thought of as great and powerful in the beginning, he did not allow that to stop him. Instead, he tried his hardest to succeed against all odds, and in the end, many can testify to the fact that he did.

"Neville Longbottom was never considered to be the brightest or the most talented. He was never considered to be worthy of notice by many. But he was always loyal, and he always stood up for what he believed in. He was considered by many as an outcast, weird, or even stupid and hopeless. But in the end, the quiet boy turned out to be a powerful man and a powerful wizard.

"So today, we send our farewells to him, as he travels on through the world beyond and, like Albus Dumbledore believed, to 'the next great adventure.' Neville did not seem like a great, outstanding Gryffindor in the beginning, but in the end, he proved himself far more than anyone could have thought.

In the end, it was clear that he was a hero."

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Well, I hope you enjoy that little bit, and yes, as it was written a year before DH was released, it is not compliant with that canon, like many of these drabbles are. A 'thanks' goes to _SWChica2005 _once again for the reviews! And to everyone, please don't hesitate to share your thoughts._

_--ForeverSirius77 / Megan_


	6. The Night 24 Hours

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 28 September 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Monthly Character Drabble – Remus Lupin (NOTE: Received First Place.)

**Title:** The Night (24 Hours)

**Summary:** In one night, he found that he had lost everything.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 455

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**The Night (24 Hours)**

* * *

_It had been the same as last night, and nothing about the day had given him any clue that, in less than 24 hours, everything that was would no longer be. Of course, a part of him knew that things had been different; they had grown apart in the past few months. The stress they had all been under for the past couple of years had finally reached the point of affecting them. He could not really blame it on any of them, though. After all, he knew it had been bound to happen sometime._

_He had spent the night alone, not being on an assignment for the first time in weeks. The entire house was quiet, and he was simply reclining on the sofa, a new book in his hands. His mind could not pay much attention to the story, however; it was far too exhausted, and within a few hours, he had abandoned the book and fallen asleep._

_An urgent knock on his front door woke him in the morning. He jerked awake and, glancing at the nearest clock, stumbled up and towards the door, pulling it open as he struggled to rub the sleep from his eyes. The figure standing on his front porch, however, was someone he thought he would never see standing outside his home._

_"What is it, Albus?" asked the man, addressing his visitor._

_The visitor, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the Order of the Phoenix, said nothing. He simply looked at the younger man, and it was in that moment, when Albus's eyes met those of the man, that the man knew. His visitor did not have to speak, did not have to show anything more, for the man to understand. What he had feared would happen for the past few years had finally occurred._

_"No," he whispered._

_"James and Lily," said Albus. "On Halloween."_

_At those words, the man backed away from the door and his visitor. His entire body was trembling as he stumbled back, his head shaking "no" as he collapsed on the nearest chair._

_The visitor had still not entered the man's house. But he did when the man spoke._

_"What else are you not saying?"_

_Albus approached the man then and, standing right next to the suffering man, he told him the whole story._

* * *

His entire world had come crashing down on that night. Everything that he had known, that he had had, was no longer. His friends were either dead or gone, and the joy he had felt with them had now been tainted. Within 24 hours, it had all disappeared. Within one night, he had lost everything.

It was the night that he could never forget.

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: And that's another one! I hope you all enjoyed it, as this one (along with _Friends, Brothers_)_ _remains one of my personal favourites. Thanks to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing, as well as _ivanovandevotee _for adding this fic to their story alerts! And please, don't hesitate to leave your opinion in a review!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	7. A Different Career

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 18 November 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Weekly Drabble 07

**Title:** A Different Career

**Summary:** He would become great … but not in the way they all thought.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 311

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**A Different Career**

* * *

The tall, young man wandered down the dark, stone corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, numerous things floating around in his mind. At sixteen years old, he knew that he was only to be in school for another year, and then, he would be thrown out into the world. All of his teachers were expecting great things from him.

"He will be the youngest Minister," they said. "He will be the best in the Ministry in five years. He will achieve this … He will achieve that …"

He knew what they all said. Professor Slughorn was the most vocal about it, though, trying to set him up with more of his contacts to promote him in the government. But the government never _really_ interested him, in a way.

Oh, he would be great. He knew that, and there was no question that he would succeed. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins let nothing stand in the way of their ambition.

_But will they be prepared for just how great I will become?_

The simple answer was no. They all thought him the perfect student. He was already a prefect and there was no competition in his becoming Head Boy. They would never suspect him of actually harbouring other desires and ambitions.

No, they would not suspect that in around two decades, the international community would know his name, and at the same time, fear to utter the words. They would not suspect that he would achieve levels of fear and greatness that no other wizard had ever even come close to achieving. No, to them, he would always be the same person – Tom Marvolo Riddle, excellent student, prefect, Head Boy.

They believed he would follow the traditional, the legal, path to greatness.

_But they would be wrong. I have chosen a different career, a different path._

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_Author's__ Note__: And there you have it – a bit of young!Voldemort for your enjoyment. Anyway, thanks for reading, and an additional 'thanks' goes to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing, and _HeartlessLink _for favouriting this fic. Well, let me know what you think of this part!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	8. Was It All Worth It?

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 2 December 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Character Monologue (Lucius Malfoy)

**Title:** Was It All Worth It?

**Summary:** Even Death Eaters occasionally question their life's choices.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 401

**Note: **No, Lucius isn't regretting his choices, per se, but a year in prison has just provided a lot of thinking time for him, and such usually results in one's mind going to areas that it would not usually dwell over. Lucius is still Lucius, and I wouldn't ever dream of changing that!

* * *

**Was It All Worth It?**

* * *

Is it possible, reasonable, for one decision to change a life?

Yes.

Can everything change in one night?

Yes.

My entire life, I was always the one in control. I was always the one who had people bow down to me, and mine were always the orders that were followed. Others were subservient to me, not the other way around. It was never supposed to be the other way.

But that did not last long.

In this world, power is everything. It is a very simple concept to understand and grasp. Even the mind of an ignorant Muggle can manage to comprehend _that _information, after all. The more power that one individual has, the more right that they have to rule over others.

The power was what drew me to him, I remember, when I was young. At the age of seventeen, power of his amount is, unquestionably, strongly desired. Who does not want to be great and powerful at such age, I ask you?

And he knew just want to promise to get me in … I wanted the power; he promised it to me.

I should have seen the hidden falsity in his words then. He used the same tricks, the same slippery words and honeyed promises that I do. And yet, I was still unable to see it. Perhaps those who buy into my words are not as foolish as I first believe them to be? Anyone can be fooled, correct … No, that is not right. Fudge and the other Ministry officials really are as gullible as they look.

But, I am getting slightly off track. Back to the original thought.

In one night, I found that the tables had suddenly turned. With one decision, I was the one bowing down to someone; I was the one in the deferent role. I was not the Master any longer, but rather, I _had _a Master.

My knees down in the dirt, my head lowered and bowed, and a dark brand on my arm … They were all signs of the shifting of power.

And for the first time in my life, I wonder … Oh, it is true that I have thought about the question before, but never as much as throughout this past year. But now, as I sit here, I cannot keep the thought from my head and my mind wonders:

Was it all worth it?

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_Author's__ Note__: Well, there that one as well. What do you think of Lucius in this drabble, hmm? Does it work? A 'thank you' goes out to _SWChica2005 _for leaving a review. Thanks to everyone for reading, and now, please, let me know your thoughts!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	9. For Remus

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 10 December 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Weekly Drabble 09 (NOTE: Received First Place.)

**Title:** For Remus

**Summary:** It took a few years, but it didn't matter … they did it for their friend.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 403

* * *

**For Remus**

* * *

"You know, don't you?" said James, grasping Sirius on the arm as he started to walk off.

"Know what?" he asked.

"Remus's secret. I know that you know what he's hiding."

"Why? Do _you_ know?"

* * *

"We're never going to get this!" exclaimed Sirius, throwing one of the advanced Transfiguration books across the common room, where it slammed into the wall. "It's been six months, and the _first_ part isn't even working right."

James removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, exhaling a sigh of frustration as he did so. Sirius was right, in a way. They _had_ been working on the transformations for six months, and they were no closer to achieving their goal than they were when they started. He glanced over at Peter for a moment, and the smaller boy was just sitting in one of the chairs, looking back and forth between Sirius and James. Then he got up and went to pick the book up, replacing it on the table.

"But we need to keep trying," he said. "For Remus."

* * *

Another six months passed, and before they realised it, two years had passed. They were getting closer, but it still wasn't close enough.

"Two years, James," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get this for two years."

"But we're almost there," replied James, flipping through pages in another of the Transfiguration books scattered on his bed. "According to this chapter, we should be able to transform in a few months."

"Is it worth it anymore, though?"

"Yes, it is," James answered, looking up from the book as Peter entered the dormitory. "We need to do it for Remus."

* * *

When 15-year-old Remus Lupin walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, it was to see a black dog, a stag, and a brown rat chasing each other around the scarlet chairs. The look of shock and confusion on his face only intensified when the animals disappeared to be replaced by his three friends, all of whom were doubled over, laughing.

"James? Sirius? Peter?" he asked. They all jumped as they heard his voice. "What's going on?"

"Well," said James, and after seeing that the common room was empty, continued. "We found out about your secret, and we decided to do something."

"We became Animagi," said Peter. "After a few years of work, we finally achieved it."

"But why?" muttered Remus.

"For you," said Sirius. "We did it for you."

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: This one, I think, is _definitely _my favourite out of all of these drabbles. I was absolutely thrilled that it won in the contest, too! (And yeah, it's also one that I could probably expand at some point, but I really liked the short little scenes that make this up; I didn't want it to drag out too much.) A thank you goes out to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing this fic, and to everyone else, thank you so much for reading, and please, don't hesitate to share your thoughts!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	10. His Son

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** May 2007

**Contest/Occasion:** Monthly Character Drabble – Orion Black

**Title:** His Son

**Summary:** He never liked punishing his son.

**Warnings:** Implied Abuse

**Words:** 560

* * *

**His Son**

* * *

The sound of a slamming door from down the hall caused his own door to rattle. A frustrated sigh escaped the mouth of the black-haired man sitting at the desk, an elegant quill grasped firmly in his hand. He closed his eyes in an effort to calm himself as the shouting erupted.

_Again,_ he thought to himself as the sound of his wife's voice carried throughout the house. It was not long before her tirade was broken up by the sound of another shouting voice as the argruments coming from his son began. Knowing that it was pointless to try and finish his work tonight – as concentration was impossible once the arguments had started – Orion replaced his quill on the desk and went to pacing along the floor of his study.

He stared blankly into the roaring fire in the fireplace, not really seeing the orange flames as they licked and wrapped around the logs. For the past four years, the arguments had been going, and he had tired of them after the first two months. They never changed – Walburga and Sirius; neither would ever give on their positions, regardless of how loud Walburga yelled or what punishments they gave to their son.

Orion, if he was absolutely honest with himself, knew he disliked having to punish his eldest. Sirius was rash, yes, but when Orion looked at his son, he saw pride, power, and strength, within the boy. He saw the three-year-old child who would come to him on stormy nights and after horrid nightmares; he saw the boy who would defend his younger brother whenever some of the older cousins would pick on him; he saw the grinning ten-year-old boy who declared that he would be the best when he went to Hogwarts.

Orion saw the boy who would be the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

_"You will do as I say, Sirius!"_

_"No, I won't!"_

A crashing sound echoed from downstairs, and everything instantly fell silent. Orion sighed again, his grey eyes falling closed. The voices had stopped from the argument. He knew what had probably happened, and as the door to his study opened, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Father," said Regulus, his hand on the door's handle as he looked at the elder Black. "Mother said that she wants you downstairs … It's about Sirius."

Orion slowly headed towards the door, placing a hand on his second son's shoulder as he reached the young wizard.

"Go back to your room, Regulus," he said, turning to go downstairs, his mind already knowing what he would see. But his son's voice made him pause.

"Father –"

He looked back at his son, seeing the thoughts warring through his mind. Emotions sought to show themselves on his face, but Regulus was hesitant to show them. Orion, however, did not need to see them to know.

He knew what the boy was thinking, what the boy was feeling.

Orion knew, because deep down, the older man felt the same.

"Sirius will be fine," he said quietly. "Go on to your room, son."

And as Regulus nodded and climbed the second staircase to the bedrooms, Orion descended down to the main room, pushing the memories of a grinning, five-year-old Sirius from his mind as he did so.

Doing such made facing it all so much easier.

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: Alright, there's another drabble to add to this collection. My view of Orion has always been a bit different than that in a lot of other fics, and that's what I was trying to show here. (Oh, and there is a nod to one of the parts of my Sirius-centric short story collection, _Shades of Black, _located in this drabble, if you can see it.) Also, a thank you goes out to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing this story, and to everyone else, thank you so very much for reading, and please, don't hesitate to let me know what you thought._

_--ForeverSirius77_


	11. Just Like Every Other Day … Or Not

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** February 2008

**Contest/Occasion:** MWPP Class: Week II – Sirius Black – Assignment

**Title:** Just Like Every Other Day … Or Not

**Summary:** He would wake up and see that his Sorting hadn't happened how he remembered … right?

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 732

**Note: **This is sort of a continuation from my one-shot, _Broken Legacy: A Snake in the Lion's Den, _which is basically the story of Sirius's Sorting into Gryffindor. However, it isn't necessary to have read that fic before reading this bit here.

* * *

**Just Like Every Other Day … Or Not**

* * *

Bright, early morning sunlight streamed through the windows in the red and gold clad dormitory. The sounds of birds chirping crept through the slightly opened glass panes and attempted to combine their power with the sun's rays to wake up the four young boys still sprawled out in their beds, all soundly asleep as they had been throughout the night.

At a first glance, it seemed like there would be a need for more power (and noise) to wake the boys than the sunlight and small bluebirds provided. The sun shone and the birds sung continuously (and, really, quite annoyingly), but not a single one of the boys made any movement to awaken.

But, just like with everything, the perseverance of nature paid off in the end as first one boy, and then another, started to stir. Morning's sunlight beamed down on the boy nearest the door as he swung open the scarlet hangings surrounding his bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly before picking up his glasses from the bedside table, looking all the while like he would much rather remain under his blankets in the blissful dream world that his mind had conjured.

The next boy to greet the morning did so with a bit more enthusiasm, though nothing that would make him appear as a happy morning person. He lifted his arms for a stretch, squinting his eyes as the sun shone on his face, and ran a hand through his sandy-coloured hair before leaving the bed. A shorter, blond-haired boy was the third to rise, and _his _enthusiasm could be used to describe him as a morning person. Though not quite 'perky', he was indeed awake enough to not trip over any of the objects around the beds (like the first boy did) as he headed toward his trunk and removed the correct uniform for the day (unlike the second boy, who picked up four pairs of socks and the wrong robes).

Only one more boy had not yet risen from his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, though he had since left the blissful world of sleep behind shortly after the second boy. The scarlet hangings still hid him from the rest of the world, so the sunlight was not unbearable and he would not be bothered; the black-haired boy was free, for the moment, to keep his eyes closed and feign sleep.

_It didn't happen, _he thought as he lay there. _Last night was a dream, that's it. I will wake up, and the hangings will be green – or, better yet, the Sorting hasn't even happened, and we'll be going to King's Cross later today. The Sorting was just one _very _vivid dream, that's all it was. Right?_

_Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Sirius, and just _maybe _it will turn out to be true._

And he opened his eyes, the bright, red colours of Gryffindor glaring back at the Black heir.

But before the groan of displeasure escaped him, his memories of what happened _after _the Sorting returned. He had laughed more than he'd laughed in a long time, and he had enjoyed himself. Once the feast had began, he had forgotten all about Slytherin (well, all right, he had _mostly _forgotten) and realised that Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad —

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the scarlet hangings being torn aside and a bespectacled boy staring at him. "Hey, Black, are you planning on getting up this morning?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "I'm awake."

* * *

The morning of 2 September was just as normal as every other day in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The Blacks arose quite early and breakfast was served in its normal, immaculate manner. Orion perused the _Daily Prophet _as he ate, while Walburga retrieved the morning's post from Kreacher.

The dainty handwriting of her niece, Narcissa, instantly caught the woman's attention. _It must be about Sirius's Sorting, _she thought, unrolling the letter to read. But, unfortunately for Mrs Black, the words were not _quite _what she had expected.

_Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga, _

_I think there was a mistake with the Sorting Hat last night; that is the only explanation I can think of right now, at least. _

_Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor …_

Walburga dropped the letter to the floor, turning to look at her husband. Surely she had not seen what she thought she saw, after all …

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Well, there's another part to this drabble collection, and unlike several of the previous bits, it's a recently-written one. As I mentioned this story's connection to _Broken Legacy, _a good deal of Sirius's characterisation in here ties into his characterisation in that previous fic, just so you know. I've always envisioned a young!Sirius as being a certain way; that's how I wrote him in _Broken Legacy _and that's how I continued in here. _

_Thank you to everyone who's reading, and please, share your thoughts! A 'Thank You' also goes out to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing the last bit. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	12. A Malfoy Christmas

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 2005 or 2006 (can't really remember)

**Contest/Occasion:** Susan Bones's Book Club (SBBC) Diggory's Drabble Contest

**Title:** A Malfoy Christmas

**Summary:** Christmas brings about fluffy love for them.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 387

**Note: **This drabble is inspired by Dory-the-Fishie's story, _Fallen Petals of an Ambiguous Flower, _on MNFF. (You can view the fic here – http: / /fanfiction. mugglenet. com/ viewstory. php?sid52803 – just remove the spaces.) The prompt, if you will, was to pick another moment from Narcissa's life and write about it. It could be either a 'he loves me' or a 'he loves me not' moment.

* * *

**A Malfoy Christmas**

* * *

(He Loves Me)

The snowflakes fell from the cloudy sky and joined their partners on the already white blanketed grounds surrounding the manor. A few rays of sun were able to break free from the clouds to shine on the grounds, reflecting off its white blankets and sparkling through the massive windows that looked into the large living room of the imposing manor.

A fire blazed in the grate, and the sound of the orange flames crackling reverberated throughout the quiet and beautifully decorated elegant room. Piles of presents and paper wrappings were strewn all over the floor, but some of them still remained unopened and under the tall, dark green Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the room.

There were two figures left in the room, both of them reclining on the gorgeous sofa and gazing into the fire that was lit in the grate. One of them, a young woman, was leaning into the body of her husband, who had his arm wrapped lovingly around her shoulders. Their young son, less than a year old, was still sleeping, and both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had decided to take this time to be with each other.

"Happy Christmas, Narcissa," whispered Lucius as he withdrew a small package from his pocket and handed it to his wife. Narcissa smiled as she opened the gift, revealing a pair of elegant emerald earrings and a gorgeous matching necklace; the necklace was made up of a chain of diamonds and an emerald teardrop at the end.

"It's beautiful," she said, her eyes leaving the jewellery to gaze up into her husband's face. As she watched him, he leant down and kissed her, whispering, "I love you," into her ear, as he pulled back.

It was then that her smile grew even wider, though nothing could truly express the joy that she felt inside her own heart upon hearing his words. Something about this moment told her that they were real; those words were true. Things really had become better after Draco was born, and they had remained that way since then. All of her past doubts simply didn't matter anymore. She had her old Lucius back, the one she had fallen in love with in the beginning.

_He really does love me … just like I love him._

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: Yeah, I know. It's a fluffy little (unedited) piece of Malfoy love. I wanted to do things a bit differently than how a lot of Lucius/Narcissa stories are, and I've always personally seen them as having some romantic moments. (And HBP and DH gave me some more evidence to support such a belief.) Anyway, though, I hope you enjoyed this additional part of the collection, and I urge you, if you're interested, to go and read Leanne's story on MNFF. She does fantastic in her characterisation of Narcissa. _

_And thank you to everyone who's reading, and please, don't hesitate to let me know what you think! A 'Thank You' also goes out to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing the last bit. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	13. An Older Sister's Thoughts

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 2005 or 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Susan Bones's Book Club (SBBC) Diggory's Drabble Contest

**Title:** An Older Sister's Thoughts

**Summary:** She loved her sister; she just hoped that the other was right.

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 205

**Note: **Another drabble inspired by _Fallen Petals of an Ambiguous Flower, _written by Dory-the-Fishie of MNFF. The prompt this time was to write the wedding dress scene from Bellatrix's point of view.

* * *

**An Older Sister's Thoughts**

* * *

Bellatrix climbed the tall staircases that led up to her youngest sister's room. Her mother had told her to "go and find Narcissa, Bella," and so, she had gone.

She stopped in the doorway and watched her sister for a moment before she made her presence known. She watched as Narcissa stood smiling in front of the mirror, her wedding dress a perfect fit, and could not help, at that moment, feeling slightly envious of her sister.

Narcissa believed she was going to be happy, and though the younger witch would never have believed it about her older, darker sister, Bellatrix truly wished that, at that moment, Narcissa would not be wrong.

Granted, she had never tried to develop very _close_ and _emotional_ bonds with her two sisters, but if pushed, Bellatrix would have to say that she was closer to Narcissa than anyone. No matter what anyone thought, she cared about her baby sister, but she would never outwardly show that affection. No, that affection remained buried deep inside Bellatrix, and the eldest Black refused to let it show.

_I hope you're right, sister, _Bellatrix thought as she talked with her sister, Narcissa spilling out her emotions about Lucius. _I truly hope you're right._

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Alright, there's another one, and like the previous drabble, this one also remains unedited. It was written two or three years ago, and that's what you've read today. I hope you enjoyed it, though it is quite short, and a thank you goes out to _SWChica2005 _for reviewing! To everyone else, let me know what you think!_

_--ForeverSirius77_


	14. Congratulations?

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 2005 or 2006

**Contest/Occasion:** Susan Bones's Book Club (SBBC) Diggory's Drabble Contest

**Title:** Congratulations?

**Summary:** _Pregnant. _It has to be a mistake. She knows that she can't be … _pregnant. _

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 427

**Note: **Yet another drabble that was inspired by _Fallen Petals of an Ambiguous Flower, _written by Dory-the-Fishie on MNFF. The prompt this time was to write a drabble in which Narcissa finds out that she is pregnant.

* * *

**Congratulations?**

* * *

She knew something was just not right; in fact, something was downright _wrong_. For the past several weeks, she had simply been feeling different, not herself. At first, she had passed it off as feeling just slightly under the weather, but it hadn't ceased.

So now, here she sat, in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, waiting for Healer Frederick to come in and speak with her. The walls surrounding her were that annoyingly bright white colour that made up the magical hospital, and there was absolutely nothing at all to do while she waited. _I do wish she'd hurry up. I don't have all day to sit here. _Finally, though, Healer Kathy Frederick came in and sat down opposite her.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy," she began, a smile on her tanned face, "I think congratulations are in order. So … congratulations; you're pregnant."

Narcissa did not respond right away. In fact, she wasn't even sure that she still retained the ability to speak. The last two words that Healer Frederick had spoken kept reverberating through her mind.

"No, I'm sorry. There has to be a mistake. I can't be pregnant." _Really, I can't. I'm nowhere near ready to be a mother, and Lucius is not any closer towards being ready to be a father than the first time we talked about this._

"I assure you, Mrs. Malfoy, that you are, indeed, pregnant, and several weeks along, too, by the results of the tests."

There was no way that Narcissa could argue that magic would produce faulty test results. If the tests said she was pregnant, then she was.

_Okay, breathe. Just breathe … nice and slowly,_ she thought. _Maybe this isn't such a bad thing. A baby could be a good thing, a good addition to the family. Perhaps it's just what Lucius and I need to make things better …_

But the other part of her mind was screaming just the opposite. _Of course this is bad! I'm not ready to be a mother, I said! Lucius isn't ready to be a father! Those are not just made-up excuses; they're facts!_

_Okay, so we're not ready just yet,_ she thought, arguing with the voice._ But there are nine months before the baby's born. In nine months, we could both be ready. Besides, Lucius has wanted this for awhile, now, and once he knows, things could get back to the way that they were before … back when everything was good … when everything was perfect.  
_

Yes, a baby could indeed be a good thing.

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: And there's another (basically unedited once again) – and some thanks goes to all who've read and reviewed, especially _ariex _and _SWChica2005 _for leaving a review on the last drabble. (And also, thanks, _ariex, _for leaving your thoughts on your favourites! I'm glad to hear you've enjoyed them!) Thanks for reading, everyone! _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	15. Sisters

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** Unknown (but _awhile _ago – at least two or three years)

**Contest/Occasion:** MuggleNet Beta Guild Team Drabble Challenge (Team Flobberworm)

**Title:** Sisters

**Summary:**

**Warnings:** None

**Words:** 504

**Note: **This was a co-written, teamwork effort for a challenge over on the MNFF forums. I wrote the scenes with Narcissa, while those that star Andromeda were written by **Cruciatus Love** of MNFF.

* * *

**Sisters**

* * *

It's hard to be the youngest, especially when your older sisters are so different from one another. They're different, but also alike. Regardless, I love them both, and they both care about me, but they don't want to spend time together like we used to. Andromeda doesn't want to be around Bella, and Bella feels the same towards Andromeda. And to top it all off, I'm growing up (I'm 13, after all), and both my sisters view my growing older differently. Bella accepts it, even encourages it, whereas Andromeda doesn't. It's like she just wants me to stay a little girl and never grow up.

* * *

I miss the Narcissa I used to love and care for. I was only a few years older than her, but I kept it as my duty to make sure nothing bad happened in her life. I kept my promise to my mother to keep her out of trouble all these years, yet lately she seems to be pulling away. And I hate the feeling that she doesn't need me anymore. I want to keep her by my side always. I want to make sure she never follows the path that Bellatrix is on. She has to be kept in the light; I have to keep her safe.

* * *

Andromeda is still trying to keep me locked up and away; she's still treating me like I'm a little girl, when I'm 18 years old. Even after she's left, gone off with that Muggle-born, she still seems to think she can control me. Bella doesn't try to control me, and neither does Father. Father and Bella seem to understand me more than Andromeda does now, but I guess those things are bound to happen. I don't even know if I want her at my wedding now; I know Bella doesn't want her to come, and Lucius isn't too fond of Andromeda, either. Maybe Bella was right … maybe Muggle-borns are bad. A Muggle-born certainly took my sister away from me.

* * *

Each day that passes I feel like I'm losing my younger sister more and more. I know she's growing up, but it's still hard for me to believe it. But I can see now that she's turning more into Bella than she is to me. I was trying to save her from this, but it seems I've only hindered her. It's because of me, I know, that she no longer tolerates the Muggle-borns. She thinks now that they are all bad, and that Bella is good. But I know Bella better than Cissy. Bella has given her life for something against moral rights and Cissy just doesn't see that. She doesn't even see the danger she's getting in with marrying that awful man, either. She seems blind to darkness.

* * *

It's true. Both Bella and Lucius are right about the Mudbloods, and Andromeda doesn't really know me, anymore. Bella's my only sister, now.

* * *

Narcissa has fallen in with the pureblood obsessed. There's no hope for her, now.

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Well, here's another (unedited) part, and was actually one of the first times I ever co-wrote a fic with anyone. A thank you goes out to both _ariex _and _SWChica2005 _for leaving reviews, and to everyone, thank you for reading! _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	16. Thestral Appearance

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** February of 2007

**Contest/Occasion:** Fortnightly Foray Into the Fandom (FFIF) Drabble Contest

**Title:** Thestral Appearance

**Summary:** Death followed him, but it was not his own.

**Warnings:** Mention of character death, though the death itself isn't shown

**Words:** 236

**Note: **In case it's not one hundred percent clear, the character is Tom Riddle/Voldemort. And the prompt for writing this drabble was simply, "Thestrals".

* * *

**Thestral Appearance**

* * *

The darkness of the night was encompassing, though the stars and moon tried desperately to alleviate the shadows. They did not succeed, yet they were able to show light on a young man as he approached a tall house that stood imperiously on a hill, overlooking the village town below. The man walked, the moon shone, and the shadows of death followed.

Words were exchanged when the young man reached the house, though the content of the conversations were not relevant. It did not matter what was said; it only mattered what happened. Death had followed the young man into the house, though it did not take him. In three flashes of green light, death claimed three lives, tearing the souls from the men and woman before they could even act.

* * *

As the young man left the house, he caught two eyes staring at him. Deathly pale eyes gleamed from the darkness of the forest and into the young man's dark eyes. For the first time, he saw the creature that he had only read about. Eyes as white as snow, though the image was nothing near peaceful; skeletally thin frame with black wings attached. It looked like a partly decomposing specimen, and he could understand where ignorance would breed fear of them.

But in seeing death, the young man was not afraid. For it was not his death that had made the Thestral appear.

* * *

_Author's__ Note__: Alright, and that concludes another part in this collection – and this time, it wasn't a Black sister! Rather, it was the Dark Lord himself. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Additional 'thanks' goes to both _ariex _and _SWChica2005 _for reviewing the last drabble; I really appreciate it! And to everyone else, please, share your thoughts. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	17. Together Until the End

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. And the "Unbroken Universe" is Robin's creation. However, anything else that you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 24 June 2008

**Contest/Occasion:** Prompt on the UU Yahoo! Group.

**Title:** Together Until the End

**Summary:** "The most important thing was that you stood together."

**Warnings: **None, except for some spoilers for Robin's stories. **Familiarity with her fics is **_**strongly **_**suggested. **

**Words:** 396

**Note: **My own, brief take on part of the ending of Robin's Unbroken Universe stories here on FF.N. (Not that this is anything other than a combination of hope and an insistence by certain characters to write it.) The scene, by the way, takes place directly following the ending of chapter 46, entitled, "To The Ends of the World" of her story, _Promises Defended._

* * *

**Together Until the End**

* * *

_It is over._

He heard the words. He heard them spoken, heard them over the sounds of the wind. And his mind wanted to focus on nothing else except those three, short words. He was tired, exhausted.

It would be so simple to stop, he knew. So easy.

But he couldn't. Wouldn't. It would be giving up, quitting, giving _in_.

Something that he had never been able to do.

And yet, nothing had worked. He had given everything –

Three hands grasped his shoulders and he felt, more than saw, James, Remus and Peter come up to stand next to him. His attention so focussed on trying to reach Voldemort, Sirius hadn't even really realised that the threat posed by the remaining Death Eaters had been mostly extinguished. A combination of his friends' fighting and his own rebounded magic had done the job.

_Together._

The word rose unbidden in his mind, vanquishing the reverberating _"It is over."_ Those three words disappeared, became silent, in the midst of that single thought.

"_We have to do it together."_

Why he was remembering that day, he didn't really know. But he was.

"_The most important thing was that you stood together."_

Not one. Not two. Not even just three.

But four.

Together.

Until the end.

Just as it had began.

_I shall be always thankful to have had such friends._

No words needed to be spoken between them. The connection was deep, instinctive. Speaking the words aloud weren't necessary when they were all on the same wave.

As one, the four wands rose. But no mouths opened to utter any incantation; it wasn't necessary. The magic that flowed simultaneously from Sirius, James, Remus and Peter wasn't any that could be summoned by fancy words or waves of a wand. Strong, core emotion combined with pure, magical strength to lash out towards Voldemort.

The light impacted the bubble, just like everything else that Sirius had tried since the fight began. Every spell, every object had been defeated by the shield around the Dark Lord.

Yet this time was different.

The shield's edges glowed, the borders straining against the force assaulting it as the Marauders' magic strengthened, pushing harder and harder in an effort to break through the protections and reach Voldemort. It wavered and rippled, the borders creeping inwards, shrinking the perimeter of the shield.

And then, the bubble popped. Disappeared.

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Alright, I wrote this little drabble after rereading Robin's stories once again, and it was inspired by a scene in _Promises Remembered, _as well as the prompt on the group. And if I ever get the inspiration to expand it a bit more, I may post the longer version as a separate fic, but I sincerely doubt that'll ever happen. A thank you goes out to both _SWChica2005 _and _ariex _for reviewing the last part of this drabble collection, and thanks to everyone else for reading. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	18. What Have You Done?

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

* * *

**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

**Date:** 23 June 2008

**Contest/Occasion:** DADA Class: Week II – The Pitfalls of D/A – Assignment

**Title:** What Have You Done?

**Summary:** You run, trying to understand the answer to that very same inner question.

**Warnings:** Implied character death

**Words:** 296

**Note: **Title comes from the song, "What Have You Done?" by Within Temptation.

* * *

**What Have You Done?**

* * *

_What have you done?_

The thought is the only thing that goes around in your mind; it is the only thing that you can think about as you run. You have thought about the question before, have wondered about your choice for months. You know the reasons that you made the choice – at least, you know the reasons that you tell that inner voice who always asks that same question.

_What have you done?_

You tried to think about an answer – a reason of why – back when they first made the offer. You tried to think of an answer when you accepted. You tried to think of an answer to those questions many times over the past year.

You rationalised it to yourself. You gave reasons – strong reasons – as to why _this choice_ was the right one. Why _this choice_ was the one that would help in the end.

Had you wanted safety? Had you wanted security? You knew that you were not a dark man – you did not believe what they did, did not want the same things that they wanted – so you knew that that wasn't the reason you had accepted.

Or had you been like so many others?

Had you wanted power?

_No,_ you tell yourself. That hadn't been the reason.

Had it?

Or perhaps the reason had been simple.

Had you been afraid? Had you been the coward that you know everyone thought of you as?

_What have you done?_

But you don't suppose it matters _why_ you made that choice now. Now, all that matters is that you _did_ make that choice, that you _did_ choose this path. The only thing that matters now is that you _do_ have an answer to that question.

_What have you done?_

You betrayed them.

* * *

_Author's __Note__: And here's another drabble to add to this collection. This drabble, as a matter of fact, was the very first time I ever wrote anything in the second-person PoV, and I have to say, I enjoyed doing it. I may write more like this in the future … who knows? (Oh, and just it case it wasn't clear, the character here is Peter Pettigrew, and it's set shortly after Halloween of 1981.) A thank you goes out to both _Ianira Ianthe _(formally _lakewater_)_ _and _ariex _for leaving a review on the last part, as well as to _Ianira Ianthe _for favouriting this story. I appreciate it, as well as appreciate all those who've read so far! _

_Oh, and by the way, I have another Sirius/Hermione one-shot that's coming soon, but I can't decide on a title. So, I put a poll up on my profile with the top four choices:_

_1) _Illogical

_2) _Meant To Be

_3) _Illogically Meant To Be

_4) _Logic Be Damned

_And I would love it if you let me know which you like better. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	19. Fear

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 20 May 2008

**Contest/Occasion:** DADA Class: Week I – Introduction to the Dark Arts – Assignment

**Title:** Fear

**Summary:** Fear, regardless of its intensity, regardless of its power, was an emotion felt by everyone.

**Warnings: **None

**Words:** 500

**Note: **The 'prompt' for this, I guess you could call it, was to write about a DADA teacher deciding what to teach his/her class.

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**Fear**

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Night had fallen hours ago, yet the young professor hadn't been able to drift into the embracing arms of sleep, regardless of how tired he felt. His body yearned to drift off to sleep, for he knew it wouldn't be good to be exhausted on his first day of teaching, yet combinations borne of memories and emotions assaulted his mind, keeping him from that much desired slumber.

He rose from bed, thinking that perhaps walking through the castle's ancient corridors might clear his head, fade away his fears, and allow him to get some sleep before the morning's sun made its welcoming appearance. He walked slowly through the hallways, taking one step in front of the other and with no specific destination in mind. Firelight flickered from torches along the stone walls, the flames joining the light of stars and moon to make his pathway visible.

Memories of past late-night journeys through these very same corridors sought to hold the forefront of his thoughts, but he stubbornly attempted to suppress them. They were in the past, after all, and they were things that he'd long since tried to put behind him. It didn't matter to the young man that the past was trying to return to him, forgotten faces haunting him from everywhere around him.

Years had passed since he'd wandered these halls at night, the thoughts on his mind at seventeen far more innocent (well, _light-hearted, _if not technically _innocent_) than they were tonight. There were four then, where now, he was left to walk alone, still not fully understanding how things had ended up in the way that they did. How people could have everything, how they could be on the top of the world, only to fall so far within so short a time.

And he feared it happening again. Ah, that's what everything came down to. The young man _feared. _But everyone feared something, did they not? Young children feared monsters under their beds; slithering snakes or scuttling spiders haunted others' dreams. Some feared the darkness; some feared pain. Others feared dying and life's end. He himself feared people discovering what he was; he feared failing in his post as their teacher …

_Fear._

Fear, regardless of its intensity, regardless of its power, was an emotion felt by everyone – young or old, magical or Muggle, boy or girl. One of the strongest callings to the Dark side could many a times be traced back to an individual's fear. In fighting a fear, one could fight the Dark. Light magic went against the Dark Arts, and fear had always been a strong power of the Dark –

That was it! If an important part of the Dark Arts was based on the power of a person's fear, then surely a strong _defence _against the Dark Arts could have a basis in one _fighting _their fear. Be that fear memories of a haunting past or childish worries of the dark, it could be fought.

And he would teach them.

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_Author's __Note__: And there's another drabble from me (and there'll be more coming, as I was just searching through files on my computer and came across others that I'd forgotten I'd written). In case it wasn't clear, the character in here is Remus, and it's set in the beginning of the school year in PoA; his conclusion of 'fear' is what leads to him using the Boggart with Harry and company. A thank you goes to those who've reviewed – _Ianiva Ianthe, ariex, _and _SWChica2005 _– as well as to everyone else who have read this collection. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	20. Halloween

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 23 June 2008

**Contest/Occasion:** DADA Class: Week III – The Fundamentals – Assignment

**Title:** Halloween (yes, it's an uncreative title, I'll admit)

**Summary:** It would be symbolic if he ended it today, twelve years after it all fell apart … And he actually smiled for the first Halloween since it all fell apart.

**Warnings: **None

**Words:** 419

**Note: **The 'prompt' for this drabble, if you will, is from one of those generator-type things online. It gave out plot … things, for lack of a better word, and the one I received was "Halloween". The assignment for the class was to write a drabble using just such a prompt. And thus, I give you the result of my attempt.

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**Halloween**

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_Halloween._

You hear them talking in the village streets. You watch the students as they leave the castle. You remember those distant and long-past times. Those memories of such happy times – times that have faded, dimmed, muted through the years.

There was always a Hogsmeade trip near Halloween.

It could happen today, then.

The castle would be empty – or nearly so. You could easily stay away from certain corridors, could easily make your way to your destination without ever seeing another person (or ghost). You know the castle better than anyone, after all.

The timing is perfect, symbolic. You smile grimly at the thought. You were never the one who put symbolism into things, never the one who saw those 'deeper meanings' in a person's actions. That had always been Moony or Lily –

You stop the thoughts from going further. You cannot allow your focus to drift, not if you are going to finally _end_ this. You shove the memories aside as you stay in the castle's shadows.

The day _is_ fitting, you admit to yourself.

It is circular. A connection. You are ending it on the day it began … all those years ago.

_Halloween._

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_Halloween._

You had used to like this day, back when you were a small boy. Your family would always have a small party, with candy and so much food that you felt you'd never be hungry again. You would get to stay up even later on those nights, too.

When you had gone to Hogwarts, you'd also had plenty of fun on Halloween. The feast would have everything you'd want, and then you and your friends would eat the candy you all had stashed in your dormitory. There had been trips into Hogsmeade to re-supply prank items (and candy, of course), and there had been laughter.

Just childish fun for so many Halloweens.

For years, you had loved the holiday.

Until it all fell apart.

_31 October 1981._

You hadn't liked Halloween for twelve years. Ever since that night.

But you surprise yourself this year. You mourn, yes, but you do not stay alone in your rooms with only a bottle of Firewhiskey and memories for company. Like you have for so many years.

No, you join everyone else in the Great Hall. You smile and enjoy the feast. You even manage to laugh, the emotion not forced or faked like you've done before. You talk with the other professors, and you joke.

You're happy; you're having fun.

Even on today.

_Halloween._

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_Author's __Note__: And there's another one for you. I hope you all enjoyed reading it (oh, and in case it wasn't clear, the time frame for this piece is in PoA; the first part is Sirius and the second is Remus), and I had a lot of fun writing the second-person point of view in this drabble as well. (Both this one and _What Have You Done? _were written on the same day, as a matter of fact; I was obsessed with writing drabbles in such a PoV.) A thank you also goes out to those who've reviewed the last bit of this drabble collection – _ariex, Ianira Ianthe, _and _SWChica2005_. I appreciate all the reading and reviewing each time, everyone – so don't hesitate to share your thoughts. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


	21. He Ran

_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. (Specifically, there's a few lines that are taken directly from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_.)_ _However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise._

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**Bits and Pieces**

**By ForeverSirius77**

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**Date:** 12 February 2007

**Contest/Occasion:** Dark/Angst Class – Week I – Assignment

**Title:** He Ran

**Summary:** He ran from everything because he thought he could never go back.

**Warnings: **None

**Words:** 429 words

**Note: **As you can tell from the date, this was written pre-Deathly Hallows, and since it was over a year-and-a-half ago, I can't, for the life of me, remember what (if anything) the 'prompt' for this drabble was. But, I hope you enjoy it anyway, so here's the next drabble, _He Ran. _

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**He Ran**

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The moon's light shone down from the night sky, desperately trying to pierce the shadows cloaking over the streets. But, try as it might, the moon could not fully succeed in its quest; the shadows were too thick, the darkness too encompassing, and the fear too constraining. Still, though, the moon tried to give light, and as the orb of the night attempted to succeed, a young man ran.

Down the dirty and abandoned streets, he ran. Across the alleys and past the cars, he ran. Surrounded by the crowds and all alone, he ran.

He ran from the shadows, and they chased him relentlessly. He ran from his past, but it was something he could not escape. He ran from everything that he knew and into a world he had despised – a world of ignorance and Muggles – just to get away.

He ran because he thought he could never go back.

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"_He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"_

"_I can help you, Draco."_

"_No, you can't. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."_

The thoughts and memories plagued him as he ran from those that he knew would be coming for him. He had failed; he had not finished his task. His mother … His father … He had doomed them all; his entire family would die because of him, and that was why he ran – He ran to escape his fear.

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He stopped for a brief moment outside a tall building where a lot of children were playing with each other. It was a school – a Muggle school – and as the young man watched the youthful children chase one another, laughter and smiles gracing their faces, he envied them. For the first time in his life, he envied the ignorant and filthy Muggles – the people who were unfit to walk the earth.

_How far does one have to fall to feel jealousy towards the lowest specimens?_ But no matter the illogical quality of his emotion, he still felt envious. The Muggle children were innocent and full of life; they wouldn't be demanded, at sixteen, to murder anyone; they wouldn't, at seventeen, have to flee from the threat of death that forever sought after them because they _couldn't_ kill. They wouldn't have his life; they wouldn't share his fate, and for that, he was envious.

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He kept running from the shadows and from the darkness. He kept running into the unknown world. He kept running from what he knew because he thought he could never go back.

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_Author's __Note__: Yep, it's starring Draco Malfoy – and I think that's really the first time I've ever written him … I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you for reading! A thank you goes out to those who reviewed the last drabble – _SWChica2005 _and _ariex_. I appreciate them both, guys. And (hint, hint), I love hearing the thoughts of my readers, so drop a line if you want. _

_--ForeverSirius77_


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